


Forgiveness

by respoftw



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, post Doranda fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9640709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/pseuds/respoftw
Summary: "Stop," he pleaded. "Don't. You're not supposed to forgive me. I'm not supposed to be let off. Please don't forgive me. Please."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, I should be writing the next chapter of 'In Harmony' but then hc-bingo issued their February challenge and I realised I'd never written a post-Doranda fic.
> 
> My four prompts were:  
> accidents, begging, job-related trauma and (wildcard) forgiveness

"Colonel Sheppard? Can you please report to Laboratory 7?"

Radek's distinctive accent burst into John's ear causing him to sigh heavily. Normally, an excuse to take a break from the paperwork he couldn't bully Lorne into doing was a welcome reprieve but things weren't exactly normal these days. Not since Doranda.

The labs were Rodney's domain and John had successfully avoided them for the best part of a month. He intended to do so for a hell of a lot longer.

"Major Lorne's on lightswitch duty, Doctor. Why don't you give him a call? I'm sure he'll be happy to help." John didn't even pause in his work, efficiently scrawling his signature across one leave request and moving on to the next.

Radek's next words cause his pen to stab through Captain Lightwood's request to spend a week on New Athos.

"Please, Colonel. It is Rodney."

John felt a cold, hard fear shrink his stomach. Even now, even in the midst of his still quietly boiling anger, his mind pleaded for Rodney to be OK. A barrage of images started flashing behind his eyes, Rodney dead, Rodney dying, Rodney nothing but a burned out husk like Collins.

"Please. If you ever cared for him, ever thought of him as a friend, please come. I do not know what else to do."

John was out of his seat and half the way to the nearest transporter before Radek had even finished his second 'please'.

* * *

The sight that greeted him on his arrival at Lab 7 was somehow both worse than he expected and a rousing relief at the same time.

There was no blood, no crowd of medics, no blackened corpse. Instead, there was Radek, twisting his hands in worry and Miko, crouching on the floor, holding a pressure bandage to Rodney's hand.

 _Now_ John saw the blood.

Rodney sat heavily in the corner, his legs stretched out in front of him and his bleeding hand raised above his head. His head rested against the wall, cradled in the line where the walls met. He smiled sunnily at John, his blue eyes bright against the bloodshot sclera.

"You came," he slurred happily. "I was wrong, Radek. He came."

John swung his gaze to Radek. "He's drunk? What the hell, Radek? It's not even noon."

Radek snapped out of his worry and levelled him with a glare so hard that John took a step back. "He has been drunk for the past week, Colonel. Something which you would know if you had not been avoiding him."

John opened his mouth to defend himself and then snapped it shut. He didn't have to defend himself to anyone. Rodney had betrayed him, used their friendship against him, almost killed him. He had the right to be angry. Hell, the last he knew, Radek was still furious with Rodney too.

"Don't fight," Rodney attempted to stand up, accidentally pushing Miko to the floor and leaving a trail of blood on the sea green wall where he fumbled for support. "I'm not worth fighting over," he muttered in between apologies to Miko. "M'not worth anything."

John felt like he'd been punched in the stomach, the pain in Rodney's voice was almost a physical presence, it was so strong.

Radek's eyes screamed 'I told you so' at him and John flinched. How had he not known that Rodney was hurting that much?

 _Because you never looked_ , his inner voice answered. His inner voice sounded a lot like Teyla.

"Fix this," Radek hissed. "I have been covering for him but I will do it no longer. It is past time."

With those words, Radek gripped Miko's elbow and pulled her with him as he left the room.

"But, Dr. McKay - " she protested.

"Nech ho být," Radek said gently. "We cannot do anymore. It is up to the Colonel now."

John watched the door slide shut behind them and shut his eyes, breathing deeply. He opened his eyes after a three count and turned towards Rodney, who had slid back down to the floor, his head in his hands. John sighed as he saw the blood that was still sluggishly flowing from Rodney's hand start to trickle down his head, matting his hair.

He might not be ready to deal with Rodney's feelings (or his own) but _this_ he could manage.

"Let me see that," he said, more roughly than he intended.

Rodney looked up, confused. "You're still here," he looked around the room. "Why are you still here? I haven't made it up to you yet. I've been trying John, I really have but..." Rodney ran his hands through his hair, leaving a sticky mess of red in his wake, "it's never enough."

"Give me your hand, Rodney," John said, a bit more gently. Rodney held his hand out and hissed when John took it.

"That isn't supposed to be red," Rodney puzzled.

"No," John agreed. "It's not." Using the first aid box that Miko had open on the floor, John cleaned the blood off Rodney's hand and patched it up. He didn't think it would need stitches but resolved to take him to the infirmary later. When he was sober. Jesus Christ, what was he thinking? Getting drunk on duty? Elizabeth would have his ass beamed up to the Daedalus so fast it would make his head spin.

"What'd you do to your hand?" John asked. It was easier than asking why he was drinking. John didn't think he'd like the answer to that one very much.

"Was the whisky," Rodney muttered. "Makes my hand all wonky."

Jesus. Rodney really had been working while drunk. John was done holding his tongue. "What the hell, Rodney? Do you know how much trouble you could get in? Never mind that you could lose your job, you could have killed yourself, you could have killed someo- -" John's mouth snapped closed.

"Someone else?" Rodney laughed harshly. "Well, I've had plenty of practice."

John sat back on his heels and watched as Rodney half-heartedly wiped his face with a wet wipe.

"You didn't kill Collins," he said quietly. "It was an accident."

Rodney shook his head, pushing up to stand again. "No," he said. "You don't get to let me off the hook. You don't get to forgive me for killing him. For killing all of them. Abrams. Gall. Wagner. Johnson. Dumais. Peterson. Hays. Grodin. Monroe. Lindstrom. _Collins_. I remember their names. Every single one. Rodney McKay, remembering people's names. Unbelievable, huh?"

John had his own list of names he'd never forget and it was a hell of a lot longer than Rodney's.

"Rodney - -"

"No," Rodney snapped, "you don't get to say my name like that anymore. Like you _care_."

John flinched as if he'd been slapped. Being slapped would probably have hurt less.

"I care," John dodged a wildly thrown punch by Rodney and gripped Rodney's wrists, holding them still. "I care, Rodney. I was angry." He shook his head. "I'm still angry but I will _always_ care. You didn't kill him. You didn't kill anyone."

Rodney fought his grip, showing a surprising amount of strength considering his level of inebriation. "Stop," he pleaded. "Don't. You're not supposed to forgive me. I'm not supposed to be let off. Please don't forgive me. _Please_."

John held him, his arms slowly moving from their place on Rodney's wrists to gradually encircle him, holding him close. Rodney begged for his hatred the entire time and John's anger couldn't stand up in the face of all that pain.

Rodney settled eventually, his breath evening out to the universal pattern of a deep sleep. John sat on the floor of lab 7 with a sleeping Rodney wrapped in his arms for a long time, long enough that his legs started to fall asleep, pins and needles pricking at them.

He was still there when Radek checked in a few hours later.

"You did not kill each other then?"

"Radek..."

Radek nodded, understanding John's meaning without John having to say the words

"It is good, that you have forgiven him. He will think so too, in time."

"I...I fucked up, Radek. I'm sorry."

Radek smiled sadly. "I forgive you both. As bad as each other, no? You are well suited."

John smiled for what felt like the first time in close to a month. "Yeah. We are."

 

**Author's Note:**

> *"Opusit ho" is (apparently) "Leave him" in Czech but google translate is probably lying to me.
> 
> Update, I have now been kindly informed that the Czech should read Nech ho být
> 
> Thank you!


End file.
